Not as I recall
by drovenmad
Summary: It has been less than 6 months since Scotland was declared officially independent from the United Kingdom, and this will be the first World Conference that Scotland will have attended. England wants to make sure that his older sibling behaves, even though they are no longer joined they are still related after all. A simple spell should keep Scotland under control, or it should have


**A/N: It has been a while since I have written a story for Hetalia, but I wanted to give it another go. I have no idea how well the concept will go down or anything like that But I hope people will enjoy it.**

* * *

**Monday, September 22nd, 2014**

England sat on a large red leather chair in the Prime Ministers office. The Minister himself was not currently there, he was in the middle of a Cabinet meeting, they were discussing the finer points of rudimentary European economics - something that whilst it affected all countries, they all found extremely boring - and England had been told to wait for him in the office. England was stuck looking around the office as he waited for the man to return. There was a tension that filled the air, making it heavy and almost unbreathable, the varnished wooden walls and array of interesting décor gave England something to occupy his mind though it was tentative occupation. There was something far greater on the Countries mind, a recent event of which the outcome could shake his entire being to the core.

His eyes continued to travel around the room, exploring the many pictures and paintings that the Minister had collected in his time and office. On the mantle behind him his eyes locked on a picture that had been taken earlier year, on new years day in fact. In the picture was himself, the Minister plus his family and the Queen with a very small yet sad looking smile on her face. England of course knew the reason for the sadness in her eyes, he had for a long time. But he had chosen to ignore it and now that was the very thought that was causing him so much stress.

As he sighed, thinking about all the troubles that lay ahead the door behind him opened, and the Prime Minister walked in.

"Ah Arthur, you are already here." The man said. The Minister always referred to England by his given name, stating that calling him England or even Britain was rather unsettling. "I was not sure if I was going to have to call you or not."

"No, I have been waiting since this morning." England replied, standing up and shaking that hand of the man as a sign of respect.

"Sorry about the wait, we had a bit of an emergency meeting this morning." The Prime Minister's smile dropped, and his face became rather solemn.

The man nodded for England to once again take a seat as he himself took a seat behind the large oak desk and placed the red folder he had been carrying down on top of it. He pressed a button on his intercom and called through to his secretary to fetch him a cup of tea, then confirmed silently that England also needed one. The two men sat in an uncomfortable silence, the Minister doing some simple but rather boring looking paperwork that he had pulled from the folder, something to do with the meeting England assumed. Leaving England to once again look around the room.

This time another picture caught the man's eye, this one caused him to stand up and move over towards it. It was an old image. The colours, what little there were had began to fade, the corners were ripped and creased as though it had been cared for very well by its previous owner, hence the reason it was framed. In the Image was England and three other gentlemen; Bernard Montgomery, Winston Churchill and Dwight D. Eisenhower. England remembered the day that it had been taken quite clearly on the morning of June second, nineteen forty four. Just a few days before the famous Normandy landings. He remembered the day clearly because his brothers had spent the entire morning laughing at how stiff he had become around the three great men.

"Feeling nostalgic Arthur?" The Minister looked up and over at him as the secretary brought their tea.

"I was thinking about what happened before the photo, and how my brothers were teasing me again." He replied, picking up his tea and taking a quick sip. It was watered down and tasted quite disgusting, as though it was more likely to be served to a foreign diplomat. However he was a gentlemen and could not let such things show. "I guess recent events have had me thinking about things like this more than I otherwise would."

"I can understand why." The Prime minister also took a quick drink of his tea, obviously not bothered by how weak it was. "But I guess that explains why you were so early. I myself am feeling rather anxious."

"If we had some idea, I wouldn't feel as bad." The minister smiled at England's nervous outburst.

"The counting is being done by a third party so that it is fair." He seemed almost insulted at the idea that it would not have been fair had it been done another way. "We just have to wait, hopefully we will get the results soon, and hopefully they will be the results that we hope for."

"And if they are not?" England looked round at the man, and whilst he respected his boss the man had no idea what he was going through. Or what he would go through should the vote go against their wishes.

"Be positive Arthur, there-" Before he could finish his sentence the phone rang. Grabbing the receiver from its home the prime minister answered.

England watched as the ministers face seemed to stout through a rollercoaster of emotions. Shock and surprise were quickly replaced by anger on the widened politicians face. But he soon regained the composure that had served him well the last couple of years and made steps to confirm the information he had just received. Soon he thanked the person on the other end and placed the phone handset back into its snug home.

"What was that?" England asked the man as casually as he could manage, trying to maintain his gentleman like exterior.

"The independent ballot counting committee." The man sighed as he watched England's eyes widen. "They have finished counting the vote."

"Well don't be a sour chap." The nation laughed nervously, trying to use his rather dry wit to lighten the mood. "Tell me how well it went in our favour."

There was a lull of silence as the minister seemed to weigh up the options of informing the nation of the result. But with another sigh he decided to bite the metaphoric bullet.

"I can't." England's face droppers air of false glee immediately. "They voted Yes, fifty one percent versus forty nine."

"N...no, that can't be right." There was a quiver, a lick of fear in the nations voice that the minister had never heard before. "Demand a recount!"

"That was the result of the recount. I found out the initial results last Friday." The minister looked at him apologetically.

"No! I won't allow it!" England badly contained his anger and stopped himself from shouting before matching out of the room, leaving the minister with a very sullen and worried look on his face.

* * *

After leaving Downing Street, England had planned to match right to the source of his problem and deal with it. That had been the plan. Yet nothing even seemed to happened as he planned it, and instead England found himself sitting in one of Westminster's high end restaurants with a cup of tea - of a much superior blend than the one provided by the ministers secretary.

He was in a bit of a daze, he had honestly expected that he was going to win the referendum. He could feel his stomach drop as he thought about is. It was just like that time with America, but the lack of violence, of war made the decision harder to take.

Much to his annoyance he heard his phone ring. As he retrieved it from his pocket he answered, not even bothering to check who it was.

"What is it?" England had been expecting calls the moment the news broke, but he really didn't want to have to deal with them right now.

On the other end of the phone there was silence, not even the sound of light breathing could be heard. England was just about to shout down the phone some excuse about marketing calls followed by a list of profanity when the answer finally came.

"Is it true?" A quiet Welsh voice came through the phone. "Are the results accurate?"

"Yes." Was all England could bring himself to say. He heard a slight sniff on the other side of the phone.

Wales was the quietest of his brothers, and the one he got along with best. The boy had never really been bothered about international affairs and was often caught up in his own little world. Even over the phone he had very little presence, in some ways he reminded England of Canada, though he was sure that Wales actively made the choice to remain rather transparent rather than suffering from the same curse as Canada.

"Is there anything you can do?" After another sniff Wales asked England this question.

Even though Wales - like Northern Ireland and Scotland - were now under devolved Governments Wales himself still relied on England to help him with many of the more complicated tasks of the role. For this reason the two of them had been growing closer over the last couple of years, their past grievances had seemed silly when they had given them any real thought and now they were quite happy to work together.

England had tried a similar tactic with North and Scotland, but it hadn't worked. North said he didn't need the help even though he clearly did, it was probably some bravado thing about not wanting to be seen by his elder brother as needing assistance.

In Scotland's case it had been even worse, when England had offered his assistance, his older brother tentatively accepted, saying he was out of practice. Yet it hadn't lasted long, Scotland had arranged his infrastructure so differently than what England was used to that the younger nation had proven to be more of a hinderance than a help. Scotland had quickly thanked him for trying and sent him home.

"Not likely, the referendum was completely legal." England finally responded to Wales over the phone. "And it looks like my boss is going to accept the outcome no matter how hard it is."

"But do you..." The quiet voice commented, asking the one question England didn't think that he could possible answer.

But Wales didn't wait for an answer before he ended the call, leaving England to think about the question that he had just been asked. How did he feel about the referendum, it was true that he had never supported the Prime Ministers decision to allow it in the first place. Yet he couldn't help thinking it was because he had been scared of this very outcome. Or was he scared of losing yet another piece of his family, he had lost so many in the past that the very thought of one of his oldest Brothers walking away from him seemed almost unbearable.

He looked down at his phone, that he had not yet put down. And this time he was the one that initiated the phone call. He was going to call the person that was causing all this hassle, his Oldest Brother, Scotland.

The phone seemed to ring forever, causing England to even doubt that Scotland was ever going to answer it, but then there was a click on the other side of the line as the phone was answered.

"Aye?" Came the cool scottish accent over the phone, sounding slightly tense and less broad than usual.

"Scotland, its me." England said, not being able to think of any other way to strike up a conversation.

"Aye aken. Wha' can ah help ye with?" England found it strange, it was the first time in a long time that Scotland had spoken to him with seemingly no aggression in his voice.

"I assume you have heard the results." England was sure that his brother would be celebrating, "So I was wondering if we could talk?"

"Am a tad busy the day lad." England sighed, it was the same as always. Scotland would only talk to him when Scotland needed to discuss something, it was an unwritten rule of their strained relationship. "But, if ye dinnae mind ah could use a drink the nicht?"

"Yes that would be fine. Will see you tonight then." With that last statement both brothers hung up the phone. England wondered about what was going through Scotlands mind for the first time, it would be the first time in over three hundred years that his brother was going to be on his own after all.

* * *

Later that night England found himself sitting in a small pub off of one of London's back streets, it was not like the pubs he usually visited with America or France. They were spacious filled with people who kept to themselves and politely moved around the bar. This pub however was much more like those found in Scotland or Ireland. It was dark with air that was filled with smoke, despite the ban on smoking indoors which had long since came into effect. Though even with the noise and the smoke England couldn't say that he hated the place, it had an energy running through it, one that he had not felt in a long time. Here in this small cramped London pub, for the first time in a long time, England felt connected to his people.

England checked his watch again, despite enjoying the atmosphere of the pub he was still a very busy man and Scotland was late. For a moment the thought crossed his mind that Scotland would not bother showing up, that it had just been a trick to annoy him. Yet as that thought passed through his head someone sat down in the chair opposite him.

Scotland was taller than England, and about the only thing they truly shared were the green eyes. Scotland's were darker and more dangerous looking than his own, but there was no doubting that he was one of Britannia's children. Scotland's long deep red hair was tied back in a low pony tail, a hairstyle the scotsman had grown fond of during the colonial days and had kept, with the exception of his fringe which was kept cut and fell down to cast a shadow on his eyes. He looked exhausted, it was the first time in a very long time that England had seen his brother look like this, and it was when he did that England noticed the smaller differences between them.

Despite Scotland's taller and more muscle heavy physique, his shoulders were much narrower than England's, the narrowest of any of the brothers even North who was much younger. Scotland's face was also much narrower and pointed. He even lacked the large bushy brows of the other four, something no-one had ever mentioned, with the exception of France which earned the country of Love a swift kick.

"So ye wanted tae talk?" Scotland finally asked after England said nothing for a few minutes.

"I assume you know the results?" England asked something he was already aware of. He phrased it as a question in order to try and appear sympathetic to the situation that they had both found themselves in, rather than his true feelings of rage.

"Aye, I found oot on Friday, 'nd ah heard the results oh the recount the morning." Scotland replied. "Got somethin tae say aboot it dae ya?"

"I won't allow it." England told his brother with the most authoritative tone he could muster. "I don't..." England trailed off as he looked Scotland in the eyes.

He paled, it had been centuries since he had seen that calm and wise old brother he had gotten used to over their union was no longer the one who was staring back at him. His green eyes had become even darker, a wild dark aura was emanating from the obviously angry Scotsman. England sat in silence and waited for Scotland's rebuttal, he was ready to openly fight with the older nation should the situation arose. Yet it never came. Over the few moments of silence the colour returned to Scotland's eyes, and he simply sighed into his hands.

"Lad, dinnae ye remember wha' happened last time ye told someone tha'?" Scotland asked him quietly.

As the words left Scotland's mouth England found himself drawn back into the past. No longer a pub in London but in the middle of a field, the rain pounding down on him. Standing there in front of him was a much younger America, his eyes full of dreams of freedom and greatness.

England was drawn from his flashback by the sound of a chair screeching on the floor. He looked up and noticed that Scotland seemed to be leaving.

"We haven't talked." England tried to reason, standing up to face his brother.

"Nae much point, is there lad." As he said it Scotland did something that England hadn't placed his hand on his younger brothers head and messed up his hair, all whilst smiling. "I'll see ya aroond, after aw. Whits the wee bairn gonna do withoot me?"

With that he left, leaving England alone caught up in a vague memory. England felt as though something very similar had happened a long time ago.

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**A/N: So this is the prologue, the kind of setup and Catalyst to the entire plot.**

**For those of you who do not know, on September 18th 2014 Scotland will hold a referendum on its continued existence within the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. **


End file.
